


Lessons

by AliceInKinkland



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon, Sibling Rivalry, Teen Crush, gamora pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceInKinkland/pseuds/AliceInKinkland
Summary: Gamora expected Nebula to mess this mission up somehow. But she definitely didn’t expect it to happen like this.





	Lessons

It’s going to be a complicated assassination. Lots of biding time, building connections, playing nice while holding a sword behind her back. Gamora is already itching to get it over with, but she can be patient. She can be whatever she has to be.

“This will be a good learning experience for both of you, and a good teaching experience for you, Gamora,” Thanos says as she and Nebula prepare to leave Titan. “I know you are ready for it. Don’t fail me.”

That praise, that confidence in her abilities nurtures Gamora like the glow of a full belly, and she is lit up with it despite herself all the way out of the atmosphere. She will not fail, never does.

Nebula, though. Nebula had better not mess this up.

Nebula takes first shift at the steering controls as they set a course for Xandar. She won’t speak to Gamora. Gamora offered to steer first, allow Nebula’s two new metal fingers more time to fuse with her body, but Nebula said she could handle it, and now she sits, wincing and sullen, in the cockpit. She always gets like this after one of their matches, always blames Gamora, as though Gamora shouldn’t be trying to win, as though Nebula isn’t doing the same.

It’s a bad idea, having her along. Dispatching with a top Nova Corps official, not to mention setting things up to make the assassination look like the work of a rival, is too complicated for one of Nebula’s first major missions, even if she’s meant to simply shadow Gamora. It’s not a mission that will lend itself well to lessons. Gamora could handle this alone, and probably more efficiently, too. She’ll make it work, though. She always does.

* * *

They set themselves up on the outskirts of the city, in a kind of flat expanse of dirtied but dully-glowing tiles where people can park and live out of their ships. Gamora has never seen anything like it, and it’s definitely not what she thinks of when she thinks of Xandar. It isn’t the high-tech bustle of the city centre, nor the sleek quiet of the Nova Corps’ towering head offices, nor the flashy criminal underground she knows the city contains as well. It’s just the unassuming squalor of people and families scraping by.

But it’s cheap, and no one asks questions when a couple of unaccompanied teenagers come to rent a spot. Gamora can pass for older than sixteen most of the time, and the more Nebula’s body is upgraded the less she looks like a fourteen-year-old girl, but it’s always best not to take chances unless you have to on longer missions like these.

Across from their ship sits a squat, patchy vessel with a faded shipping company logo on the side. Out front, someone not much older than Nebula has set up a stand and is selling various flavours of steaming buns. They’re Xandarian, pink-skinned and smiling, and wearing clothes that on Xandar suggest their gender sits somewhere between male and female. Gamora assesses them out of the corner of her eye. Probably not a direct threat, but depending on their powers of observation, possibly a liability if anyone comes asking questions. Best to stay as removed and unmemorable as possible.

They send the day’s mission briefing back to Thanos. No response, which means they’ve done well so far. Tomorrow, they’ll head into the city proper and begin their reconnaissance. But for now they just gobble down protein bars and roll out their sleep mats onto the floor of the ship’s cabin.

In the dark, Gamora plays her usual game: imagining what would happen if she ran away from her whole life at this exact moment. She probably wouldn’t get very far this time, not with Nebula eager to prove herself and positioned to be sprung into action hot on her heels.

One day she will turn her back on all of this. She just has to figure out how.

Sometimes she believes that. Other times she is not so sure.

Beside Gamora, Nebula whimpers in her sleep, a noise she would never allow herself to make while awake, her new fingers twitching at her side. Gamora is embarrassed on her behalf, listening to the secret sound, and the feeling keeps her up for longer than she’d like, considering the busy day they’ve got ahead of them.

* * *

Gamora comes home a few days later with an invitation to a senior Nova Corps officials’ gala, and a plan to go with it. Nebula is sitting in the pilot’s chair of the ship, eating a hot bun filled with some kind of bright red berry. A sweet bun. An unnecessary bun.

“Don’t tell me you bought that with our credits?” says Gamora. _Not an efficient use of resources_ , she can almost hear Thanos’ voice saying in her mind.

Nebula shakes her head. “Tam gave it to me.”

“Tam?” Is this a contact in the Nova Corps? Has Nebula come up with her own plan, separate from Gamora’s? Gamora feels a stab of jealousy.

“Tam who lives across from us,” says Nebula. “Who sells the buns.” There is a berry on her chin.

“You talked to them?” says Gamora. She hadn’t thought it worth mentioning, that they shouldn’t _befriend_ their neighbours. Clearly, she shouldn’t assume Nebula knows anything whatsoever. Her mistake.

Nebula meets Gamora’s eyes, challenging. “If they like us, they and their family will be less likely to rat us out if someone comes looking.”

Fine. Gamora isn’t convinced, but she’ll let this one slide for now. At least Nebula’s fingers have healed, judging by the way she’s holding the bun.

* * *

A few nights later, Gamora wakes to the sound of receding footsteps padding across the floor. She lies still, listening as Nebula slips on a jacket and shoes and opens the ship’s door. The airlock hisses as she closes it behind her. Gamora sits up and goes over to the window.

Outside, the kid who lives across from them—Tam—is waiting, hands in their pockets. When they see Nebula, their eyes light up, the kind of pure smile Gamora knows neither she nor Nebula have much practice with. They’ve got a bag with them, and when they open it up to show Nebula, Gamora catches a glimpse of more of those buns, wrapped in shiny paper like babies in swaddling in the communal nurseries back on Zen-Whoberi. They sit down on the ground of an empty lot a little ways off from either of their ships, and Tam pulls out a bun for each of them.

Gamora should stop them, but instead she watches, frozen, until it begins to get light. Once, they kiss, but Gamora doesn’t think the kissing is the worst part. The talking is worse, and all the looks they give each other, and the half hour they spend lying on their backs on the dirty pavement, staring up at the sky, which must be mostly grey with light pollution anyway.

Gamora expected Nebula to mess this mission up somehow. But she definitely didn’t expect it to happen like this.

* * *

Gamora sets the explosion to occur at noon, when she and Nebula are both off in the city, preparing their parts for the gala the next day. Her final plan—which, thankfully, Nebula seems to be following without too much resentment—is a plan with lots of moving pieces, and Gamora is almost glad she has backup this time.

Almost.

The explosion will not destroy any essential part of Tam’s family’s ship, but it will cause substantial damage to the interior. It will also reveal a note, written in glowing ink on a scrap of flame-resistant cloth inside the bottle Gamora has used to make her mini-bomb: _Go away now and we won’t come looking for you. Stay and you won’t be so lucky._

It’s possible Tam’s family will report the attack to the authorities. But judging by the kind of place they’re living, Gamora is betting on them just packing up and heading for the stars.

* * *

Sure enough, when she and Nebula arrive home that evening, the lot across from theirs is empty.

“This was you, wasn’t it? You made them go away!” yells Nebula. At least she has the sense to wait until they’re inside their ship.

“Yes, I did.” Gamora shrugs. Her eyes meet Nebula’s, challenging.

Nebula lunges forward and punches Gamora in the face, the cold metal of her two new knuckles hitting Gamora’s cheek like shattered ice. Gamora reels backwards but recovers quickly, standing firm. She wants to scream, but she forces her voice to stay calm. “Don’t do that. If you break my nose, I’ll break yours back, and then we’ll have to deal with questions at the gala.”

“Fuck you,” says Nebula. “You couldn’t even let me—why can’t you just—I hate you!” Black eyes wild, muscles tense and ready to spring.

“No, fuck you,” Gamora retorts. How can Nebula be so stupid? “Of course I can’t let you allow your _feelings_ to get in the way of a mission.”

“They didn’t have anything to do with the mission!”

“Everything we do here is part of the mission. Or do you think Father would approve of us mooning over crushes when we’re meant to be carrying out an assassination?”

Nebula feigns nonchalance, smoothing her face into what she probably thinks is blankness. Gamora feels like she hates her sister, but she might just hate herself.

“Are you going to tell him?” says Nebula, and just like that all her carefully constructed indifference crumbles away, much to Gamora’s dismay. They’ve both had enough practice at lying that Nebula should be better at it. No wonder Thanos is rarely impressed with her.

Gamora softens, although she shouldn’t. She should be tougher on her, so that Nebula will learn, but she can’t keep it up. “No,” she says. “But you can’t do that again. That kind of life—we don’t get it, so it’s easier if you just—don’t. Don’t let yourself feel that way.”

Nebula nods, chastised, fire gone. Gamora’s cheek burns where Nebula punched her, but it’s nothing, nothing compared to a million other moments between them. This is just the kind of people they are.

“Let’s go over the plans for tomorrow,” says Gamora, sitting down on her rolled-up sleeping mat. After a moment, Nebula joins her. They bring up the map of the gala venue on the holo screen, and begin running through plans and contingencies. Nebula’s eyes have welled up, shimmering, but neither of them says anything, and at least Nebula has sense enough to blink the wetness away before it falls.

That’s a lesson they both learned years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on tumblr](http://aliceinthinkland.tumblr.com/) (if you wanna!)


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